I Can't Feel Your Pulse
by Temptress-Kitten17
Summary: "She was supposed to live a normal, happy, human life complete with the white picket fence. She wasn't supposed to destroy herself." Set in the future, Elena is now in her twenties living a hollow existence. Damon finds her. Smut warning!
1. Numb

Disclaimer and Warning: I do not own Vampire Diaries, however consider this story mine. Any dialogues not canon from the show as well as any descriptive sentences are the end result of over twenty years of writing. I have poured my heart and soul into every beautiful paragraph, every perfect sentence, every hot and/or romantic scene, and every funny one-liner. To copy this work or any other and claim as one's own, in whole or in part is a criminal offence punishable by ostracism, harassment by my loyal readers, and possibly even dismissal by the MODs. **Repeat offenders will be reported IMMEDIATELY to Stop_Plagiarism on LiveJournal and your name will be placed on the watch list under all known aliases.** It's not worth it; don't be a thief !

Dedicated to BadBoysAreBest. Without her suggestions and encouragement this wouldn't have been written.

"**I've become so numb I can't feel you there  
Become so tired so much more aware  
I'm becoming this all I want to do  
Is be more like me and be less like you"**

**Numb- Linkin Park**

Part 1: Numb

The music is pounding in her ears so hard she can't recognize the song that is playing. But it doesn't matter; she didn't come here to dance, she came to forget. She wants it to be over; she can't deal with the painful memories. All that guilt she's been carrying inside is weighing her down, and she just doesn't want to feel anymore. It's _her_ fault that so many people suffered and gave up their lives for her. It was _her _fault that Caroline was turned into a vampire and later bitten by Klaus as punishment when Stefan had refused to return to him willingly, and it was also her fault that Tyler had triggered the curse and become a werewolf; living a painful existence once a month until the day when Klaus tore his heart out of his chest when he'd tried to save Caroline from her fate. It seemed that whoever was involved in her life ended up in danger or worse. It was why she'd left Mystic Falls. Her best friend Bonnie; her aunt Jenna; even her brother Jeremy, they all died because she couldn't protect them. She shouldn't be alive; Klaus should have just killed her. It was what she'd been born for, after all. She was the doppelganger, destined to die so that the Sun and Moon Curse could be lifted. Instead _they_ had convinced her to fight. _They_ had refused to let her give up; and then when it was over, _they_ had left her. They fucking _left_, and she was just expected to move on with her life. She _tried_, she really did, but the memory of that final battle haunted her dreams. She could still see Bonnie using the last of her power to incapacitate Klaus and keep him vulnerable long enough for Jeremy to stab him with the newly crafted dagger. He was already horribly wounded, his ring having been selflessly given to Elena despite her protests. His final act was to kill Klaus; he'd died a hero. Aunt Jenna hadn't been so lucky, having been taken by Klaus and horribly murdered when Elena had refused to come to him willingly. Elena couldn't forgive herself for getting her aunt involved; she should have told her the truth, and told her to run. But she'd stupidly continued to lie to her, and in the end that lie had only put Jenna in more danger than the truth would have. She closes her eyes and lets the music invade every part of her mind and drown out her thoughts. She's not aware of anything; the shots of tequila she downed at the bar earlier work their magic on her and dull her senses. For once in her life, she doesn't feel his eyes on her…

The woman on the dance floor is unmistakable; he would know those eyes and pouty lips anywhere. _Elena._ She has an air of confidence about her, and she's dressed to kill in a black cocktail dress and matching patent high heels. She doesn't notice him staring at her; because everyone is staring at her. Every man with a pulse is watching her hungrily, including the few vampires here tonight. They all want her, and yet she doesn't seem to care at all. She welcomes the attention, and yet she's indifferent to it at the same time; if she wasn't so clearly in her twenties, he would have mistaken her for Katherine. But he can hear her heart pounding in her chest, and he knows it's her; Elena Gilbert has finally crossed his path again, and she's all grown up. If he didn't believe in fate, he'd think she had deliberately sought him out, or that it was a coincidence. He knows it's not any of those things; she doesn't see him approaching her. She doesn't turn around as he moves closer, brushing against her as she continues to shake her hips and grind in such a way that feels like more of a mating ritual than a dance move. It still amazes him how far dancing has evolved in a century; or rather _regressed_ considering how incredibly primal and sexual the whole thing has become, especially in clubs like these. It's why he came here in the first place; there are enough intoxicated, writhing warm bodies to feed an entire town of vampires, and he had originally come here for dinner and a show. He had a target all picked out; a hot little blonde had been giving him the sex eyes earlier. He had been about to make his move on her, get her back to his place, and enjoy a good fuck and a good meal before erasing the encounter from her mind and sending her back home, wherever that happened to be. _Plans change_.

She can feel someone behind her, brushing against her backside with his hips as he moves closer to her. His breath tickles the back of her neck and sends a shiver up her spine. She leans back into him, grinding against him to the pulse of whatever song is currently playing. She doesn't turn around; doesn't care who it is or what he wants, she just knows that this hard body pressing against her feels entirely too good to be real. She decides she must be drunk, because she is so certain that she recognizes that spicy cologne…

He still isn't convinced he isn't dreaming; she feels too good against him for it to be real. She still hasn't turned around, and he begins to wonder if he was mistaken; he could be grinding against a complete stranger who only happens to look like _her_. It's not the first time that he's made that mistake, after all. But her scent surrounds him, and he can't ignore the pull he's always felt whenever he was around her; the crackling electricity is there whenever he "accidentally" touches her skin, and he instantly craves more of her. He wants to bury his face in her long dark hair and breathe in her unique scent; she always smelled like strawberries, the most decadent chocolate, and a mixture of other sinfully erotic spices that he could never quite identify but turned him on like nothing else ever has.

His arms suddenly slide around her waist, and she can feel a warmth and comfort in them that she's rarely felt since she was seventeen. Her breath catches in her throat, and she turns her head slightly, tilting her face upward. Her heart nearly leaps out of her chest; the piercing ice-blue eyes practically sear into her soul. She still isn't convinced she's not hallucinating; it would be entirely possible since she's pictured those eyes and that cocky grin so many times that she's lost count. She's always wondered what it would be like to feel those lips on hers; to have him deep inside her and trace over every muscle with her fingertips.

"Elena."

She cuts him off, grabbing him and crushing his lips to hers to shut him up. She doesn't want him to say anything; it will make this real. And the cost is too high for her to allow that. Right now, she just wants one night. One night to get him out of her system, to have that taste of what she's been craving for so long; just one taste. She's pulling him to the back of the club; toward the narrow hallway in between the dingy bathrooms and the exit. She leads him to the dark alley, not wanting to risk bringing him back to her apartment and have him stay the night. This doesn't mean anything, after all; it's not _real. _It's nothing more than an alcohol-fogged delusion, or so she keeps telling herself. It doesn't matter; nothing matters to her anymore.

He's shocked at how quickly things have escalated; one minute they're in the club, the next she's dragging him outside without saying a word. She's pulling him to her, nipping at his neck and sucking on his skin as she writhes against him. She's always had a way of unraveling all his best plans, and tonight is no different. He had intended to seduce _her_, not the other way around. Still, he's not going to complain. She's here, and after all these years he can finally have what he wants; he would be a fool not to take what she's offering.

Her back slams hard against the wall, but she barely feels it. After so many years, she's used to the pain; it makes it less _real_ for her; just another way she tries to feel _something_. Her legs wrap around his waist, her nails claw at the taut muscles in his back; she's probably drawing blood, but she doesn't care. Caring is something for those who can still feel emotion, and she doesn't; not anymore. She doesn't waste any time. She digs her nails into his shoulders, pulling him close to her so that every inch of her heated skin is pressing against him. His hands slide down to her hips before teasingly tracing the sides of her waist and she starts to feel her defenses crumble. She fights back the shiver that runs through her at his soft touch; she wants to give in to the feeling so badly that it hurts. But she can't; if she lets herself feel anything for him, it'll only hurt more when he leaves her. It can't be like that; it can't be tender. When he moves to kiss her again, this time she turns her head away. She doesn't want intimacy; she just wants him to fuck her, make her forget her life for a few hours, and then move on. Forget he ever saw her. Forget he ever loved her. It's easier that way.

For a second he thinks she's changed her mind, but then she buries her face in the crook of his neck and nips at his skin again. Her fingertips rake down his chest and trace over each defined muscle on their way down to the front of his jeans. He growls softly, pressing against her hand as she rubs over him with such skill that he can barely control himself. Her touch is fire and electricity mixed with raw animalistic _need _and he can feel a damp spot forming on the outside of his jeans as she shamelessly grinds against him again. He can smell her arousal even more than he can smell the blood pumping beneath her skin. What little control he had left when she was stroking him becomes nonexistent the second her fingers work the zipper down on his jeans; she dips her hand inside his pants, grasping hold of his cock and shifting her body so that he's pressing against the slick, moist heat between her thighs. She's not wearing any panties and the realization that she's naked beneath her dress makes him so hard that it's bordering on painful; he needs to be in her, _now_.

With one powerful stroke he's inside her; she sinks her teeth into his skin as he enters her, moaning softly at how incredible it feels. He fills her completely; sending shocks up sheer pleasure up her spine as he slowly draws back and pushes forward again. The pace is maddeningly slow, and she can feel tenderness in the way he's holding her to him; it terrifies her like nothing else ever has. She needs him to go harder, faster; she closes her eyes, tosses her head back, and trusts in his strength and the wall behind her to keep her upright as she slams her hips down to meet his. He leans forward, trying to capture her lips in a searing kiss, and she tilts her head to the side, exposing her throat to him instead. She cries out when his lips make contact with her skin, waiting in vain for his fangs to prick her skin. She wants him to do it; she was almost certain he would have, after having denied himself the pleasure of it for so long. But he places one soft, lingering kiss against the pulse point in her throat and pulls back just enough to move his lips back to hers.

He frowns in confusion when she turns her head again, refusing to kiss him. And then he sees something in her eyes; something that he hadn't recognized in his haze of desire for her but can now see so clearly that he feels disgusted with himself for not realizing it sooner. She's not there. She refuses to feel anything at all; won't let herself. Her eyes are closed, and her head is thrown back against the wall, and she's closed off to him. He didn't think it was possible for a human to flip the switch, but she has. It fucking pisses him off. He can barely control himself at the realization that this doesn't mean anything to her; she's using him. That kiss earlier in the club had been nothing more than a distraction, a way to entice him to her so she could get what she wanted out of him. It hurts him worse than if she'd driven a stake through his heart or set him on fire, and he can't help thinking that it's _his _fault that she gave up. He buries his face in the side of her neck, pulling her closer even as she continues to fight him. She won't let him hold her. She won't let him kiss her. She might as well be a stranger to him; he never should have left her. He hates himself for letting her go, and he hates _her_ for giving up. She was supposed to live a normal, happy, human life complete with the white picket fence. She wasn't supposed to destroy herself. God, he _loved_ her. He loved her so fucking much, and it's killing him that she's not there. She's empty. There's nothing left of the girl he loved; the fire in her eyes is gone. He slams into her, punishing her for it. He hears her sharp cry, but she doesn't stop moving and her eyes are shut tight. She's still closing herself off to him and he wants her back; he wants her to let him love her. It's all he's ever wanted.

He presses her into the wall and his chest, grinding against her, desperate to make her feel _something_. He knows she's still there; he refuses to give up on her. She tries to turn her head away again, but he effectively has her pinned to the wall and his hands slide up to either side of her head. He's gentle as he moves to cup her face, to hold her firmly in place as he slows his movements inside her and leans in to kiss her.

His lips are soft, and she can taste the alcohol on them as he coaxes her mouth open and slides his tongue against hers. She tries to fight him; she frantically, desperately tries to grind her hips into his and pull away from this far too intimate feeling. But he's so much stronger than she is, and he won't let her. She can feel the last of her control slipping away, and she begins to tremble in his arms. He's forcing her to feel things that she hasn't let herself feel in years; all those long-buried emotions are clawing their way up to the surface and she can't fight back the tears much longer. She knows she has to do _something_, _anything_ to get him to stop kissing her like this. He doesn't love her; he wouldn't have left her if he did. She can't let herself believe the lie. Still, she opens her mouth to him, lets him in past all her defenses.

He can feel her beginning to respond, and for a moment he thinks she's come back to him. But then the kiss turns hungry, desperate. She's clinging to him, but her movements are fueled by lust, and it's in this moment that he realizes he can't reach her; she's too deep in her own selfish little human misery to feel anything else. She's numb, and he might as well be fucking Katherine right now for all the warmth she's giving him. So he stops. He slides out of her, setting her down on the pavement as she stares at him in obvious confusion.

"Why did you stop?" she asks him, still breathing heavily.

He turns away; he can't look at her right now. If he looks into those cold, empty eyes again he's going to do something he'll regret; he wants to shake her, slap her, anything to get that look out of her eyes. She's _not_ the Elena he remembers; she's not the woman he loved enough to set free. He doesn't recognize this broken woman standing before him now, offering her body to him like it means nothing; like _she_ means nothing.

"Because you don't want this," he spits out bitterly.

"I'm here, aren't I?" she responds without feeling. She couldn't sound more like Katherine if she'd magically transformed into the bitch herself. He shakes his head, furiously zipping himself back into his jeans.

"You're _not_ here," he growls. "And I'm not about to let a stranger use me just so she can feel something."

"I thought this was what you wanted!" Elena shouts at him as he starts to walk away from her. In an instant he's in front of her again, and her back slams painfully against the wall. His jaw is clenched, his eyes an electric blue and crackling with fire and she smirks in triumph, thinking he's giving in.

"If you think this is all I ever wanted from you…" he growls, grazing his teeth against the column of her neck. She arches against him as he cups one of her breasts in his hand, pinching her nipple just hard enough to elicit a response from her. But it's hollow; everything about this encounter is meaningless to her. He roughly shoves her away, hating everything that she has become. "Then you don't know me at all!"

"Clearly I don't," she snaps back. She can feel the tightness in her chest; she fights back the tears as she watches him turn his back to her again. He's going to leave her, just as she knew he would; he always fucking leaves her when she needs him the most. She resists the urge to call him back, instead relying on her sarcastic tongue. "The Damon I knew wouldn't turn down an easy lay."

His jaw clenches in anger. "And here I thought the heartless bitch gene had skipped a generation," he replies coldly.

Elena stares after him in shock. He's gone before she can blink, and she's alone in the darkness with her dress still riding high on her hips.

**Author's Note:** This story was written for my good friend S (BadBoysAreBest) after she basically challenged me to write something darker. Hope I did a good job as this is my first time writing something truly angsty. Part 2 is in the works and I'm still working on Chapter 9 of "Living With Sin" and Chapter 14 of "All I Need" but it's not exactly going too well right now so you all might have to be patient. But if you miss me, there's always my LiveJournal! I can't even begin to tell you how awesome it is for me to connect with my readers, so feel free to message me anytime you like. BTW, there's a fic you all should be checking out that was specially written just for me! It's called "Fast Times" and was written by the ever-talented BadBoysAreBest. I'm still waiting for Part 2 since I know it's going to contain a super hot lemon, but Part 1 is hysterically amusing in itself. I just LOVE when Fun Elena and Caroline come out to play, and S always writes the two of them so well. Also, there's a new writer in town…Auntleona0 has written a really hot little smutfest called "Every Student Needs a Teacher" that you all just HAVE to read (and leave her rave reviews). I was fanning myself by the second chapter, and you know how I am about my smut ;)

**Be Good and Review**

******_Added Note: For those of you who are re-reading this, you might have noticed that I changed a bit of stuff around. In order to make the story more canon, I kind of had to re-write Caroline's death (since Jules is already dead). I figured that since Klaus is such an evil bastard, it wouldn't be such a stretch for him to kill more of Elena's friends just b/c he's not getting his own way. After what he did to Jenna, nothing would surprise me. Plus it adds more angst! Hope you all don't mind too much._**


	2. Living Dead Girl

Disclaimer and Warning: I do not own Vampire Diaries, however consider this story mine. Any dialogues not canon from the show as well as any descriptive sentences are the end result of over twenty years of writing. I have poured my heart and soul into every beautiful paragraph, every perfect sentence, every hot and/or romantic scene, and every funny one-liner. To copy this work or any other and claim as one's own, in whole or in part is a criminal offence punishable by ostracism, harassment by my loyal readers, and possibly even dismissal by the MODs. **Repeat offenders will be reported IMMEDIATELY to Stop_Plagiarism on LiveJournal and your name will be placed on the watch list under all known aliases.** It's not worth it; don't be a thief !

For my good friend S (BadBoysAreBest). Without her influence I probably wouldn't come up with half the stuff I write these days!

**"Don't want your hand this time, I'll save myself**  
**Maybe I'll wake up for once**  
**Not tormented daily, defeated by you**  
**Just when I thought, I reached the bottom**  
**I'm dying again"**

**Going Under- Evanescence**

Chapter 2: Living Dead Girl

It's another night, another club. He's pounding back his shots without even blinking and slamming them down on the bar so hard that they almost shatter. He just can't get her out of his head no matter how many willing victims he's drained and fucked dry in the past seventy two hours. Not that he's really tried; he's been to every fucking dive bar in town, hoping that he'll run into her so he can drag her back to his place and keep her there until she gives up her perfect imitation of Katherine and Isobel and is _Elena_ again. Even if she decides to fight him the whole time, he's determined to get her back; he always was a masochist. It's almost midnight, and he's about to give up; and then he spots her. She's dressed in a blood-red black bustier, with skin tight black jeans, four inch heeled black hooker boots, and her hair is in messy curls this time. As if she wasn't already reminding him of Katherine with her new bitchy attitude, she now has to borrow from her wardrobe as well. He has half a mind to drag her out of here, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her back to his car right now. She's grinding against some random asshole, and she has that sexy but indifferent look in her eyes again; Katherine's look. Another guy grabs her from behind while the first asshole continues to grope her body like it's his own personal playground. Damon fights back every instinct to tear their throats out for daring to touch _his_ Elena. He furiously slams down his drink again as he watches her writhing, thrashing her head like some depraved stripper. Her hips undulate over one outstretched leg of the man in front of her, and she leans back against the other one behind, letting him run his hands all over her chest. He can't watch her do this to herself anymore; he's had enough.

She's so far gone right now that she can't even see straight, but she doesn't care because it feels so fucking amazing. She can't remember the last time she's ever been so high; probably not since before the accident. She should probably feel guilty right now, but the truth is she doesn't. She doesn't feel anything other than the bodies of the faceless men she's dancing with as they press against her. She laughs to herself because she knows they think they can possess her; but you can't possess something that isn't really there. Besides, she's not in the mood to fuck anyone tonight; she's too focused on forgetting _him_. God she hates him right now! She still can't believe how quickly he cast her aside again, even after all these years. She'd really hoped that his reappearance back into her life had meant that things would change; he could have changed her. She wouldn't have had to _feel_ anymore; she could have been free of everything that haunted her pathetic human existence. It was bitter irony that she was finally dark like him, willing to let him have her, and yet he didn't want her anymore.

Fuck him!

She doesn't care anymore; there's nobody left to care about. Nobody left to even care about _her_. They're all dead; every fucking member of her family is gone, including her birth parents. She still can't get the image of her birth mother out of her head; how Isobel ripped off her necklace and burned to death right in front of her. It was such a mind-fuck for her; she hadn't even liked the woman, but in her last few minutes she'd shown that she had truly cared about her daughter after all. And then she'd killed herself. Another parent brutally torn away from her, and she could do nothing to stop it. It was even worse when John died because she'd actually started to make an effort to get to know her father. Like everyone else in her life though, he'd died to protect her; to bring her _back_, and preserve her soul. But it wasn't over. Damon had been bitten by Tyler and his cure resulted in Stefan turning himself over to Klaus. With that sacrifice had come the revelation that she was in love with Damon, but she'd fought back those feelings knowing that they needed to find Stefan. Somehow they'd managed to knock him out with vervain, and drag him to the tomb under Fell's Church. And in retaliation for defying him, one by one, Klaus went after everyone she had ever cared about. Alaric, Jenna, Matt, Caroline…they all died because she, Damon, and the few remaining allies they had left, had refused to give him what he wanted; because Damon had convinced her to fight. Had she known they'd leave her in the end, she would have walked right up to Klaus and told him to go ahead and kill her and be done with it. At least then it would have mattered. At least then her friends and family would have been safe.

God, she just doesn't want to think about this anymore! She's so fucking tired of the nightmares, and the guilt; the pain is suffocating her. She would give anything to be able to flip the switch for good; things would be so much easier if she was dead…or undead.

Damon can't seem to tear his eyes away from her. She's scanning the room now, as if she's looking for someone; he's not stupid enough to think it's _him_ she's looking for though. She already made it pretty fucking clear a few nights ago that she didn't want him; not the way he wants her to. Her eyes suddenly fall on a man lounging around in the corner and Damon rolls his eyes at the idiocy of it all because the guy could be his less attractive twin! But there's something almost dangerous about him, and he doesn't like it. It's almost as if he's a…

"FUCK!"

She finds him lurking in the shadows of the club, probably looking for his next victim. She doesn't even know his name, but she doesn't care; she's ready for it to be over. When he catches her staring, he smiles at her. Like a predator in sheep's clothing he attempts to lure her to him by appearing harmless; just another handsome man looking to share his company with her for the night. She's not fooled for a second; she knows he only wants her blood. It wasn't her first choice, but then _he_ didn't want her. She approaches him without any hesitation in her steps, and she boldly stares into his eyes. His pupils dilate and she knows he's trying to compel her.

"It won't work," she tells him, smirking the way _he_ always does. "I'm wearing Vervain." She fingers the silver locket around her neck; it's a new one that she bought herself after she and Stefan broke up, a silver teardrop with embellishments.

The vampire frowns at her, obviously confused. "You know?"

She nods her head, her eyes still boldly meeting his. For a moment she wonders if she's approaching this man the same way Isobel approached Damon, but then she shakes the thought away; she doesn't want to think about him anymore. She doesn't want to think about _anything_. "I want you to turn me," she tells him, getting straight to the point.

He smirks at her, and she's once again reminded of the one she really wants, but can't have even now. "I don't make it a habit to turn women I've no intention of keeping around," he cocks his head to the side, studying her with mild curiosity. "What's in it for me?"

"Besides a free meal?" she shrugs. "Whatever you want; I don't care. Use me and discard me after, if that's what you want. As long as I have vampire blood in my system when I die, I don't really care."

He looks so much like _him_ that it hurts; yet another reason why she wants to flip the switch for good. Once she's a vampire, she won't have to feel anything; not unless she wants to. If that means she has to whore herself out to get what she wants, then so be it.

"What makes you think I won't just kill you?" he asks her pointedly, arching one dark eyebrow.

She shrugs indifferently. "I'll take my chances," she replies.

She doesn't care whether he turns her or simply drains the life out of her and leaves her for dead; it's not like she has anyone to care about her anymore. So she follows him out of the club, back to the alley where all this started. He makes no move to slit his wrist and offer his blood to her, but she holds her ground even as he grips her by her shoulders and roughly pulls her to him; she knows he's going in for the kill and she closes her eyes, waiting for him to tear her throat out and let it all be over. His fangs prick into her skin, and it's far more painful than any vampire bite she's ever felt before. She can feel him draining the life from her; everything is fading to black and her limbs have grown so heavy. She can't breathe; can't think; can't do anything at all except wait for death to take her. And then his mouth is wrenched from her throat and she slumps to the ground as her killer is suddenly thrown against the wall.

Damon tears into him savagely. His hands are bloody and he tosses the vampire's heart on the cold ground in front of its owner. His eyes are fiercely red, and he's glaring at her with such anger that she can feel him burning her with his furious gaze.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" he growls at her.

Elena can sense the emotions warring within him, and in her head she laughs bitterly. He's the one that left her, made her want to turn off her humanity; what did he expect to find? She tries to stand up and give him a piece of her mind, but she's lost too much blood and can't even seem to lift her head. Everything is spinning and the blackness is quickly overtaking her.

"Fuck!"

The last thing she's aware of before she lets the darkness take her is Damon cursing, and something thick and warm sliding down her throat.

**Author's Note: **I have one (or maybe two, haven't decided yet) chapter left to write for this story. S and I decided that it would be shorter, since we both like our instant gratification. Still, it's been a challenge to write. I'm loving every second though! I'm also loving all the reviews I've received already :D Seriously, I was SO worried that I wouldn't be able to pull this off, since I've mostly written fluffy romantic stuff up until this point, or porn without plot. But let's just say this season has really helped me see into the mind of Dark Elena, and after tonight's episode, I just HAD to finish this chapter. I can most definitely see Elena reacting this way, if TVD was allowed to get any darker (and I'd say it's getting to be already). I won't spoil it for those who haven't seen the episode yet, but I do wonder how much more trauma Elena can handle before she _does_ snap. BTW, "Fast Times" is done, and it's AWESOME! It's like S read my mind with that fic :D Also, Jenna (Angel's Blue Eyed Girl) is writing again. She promises smut, and she knows how to deliver ;) Okay, I have to get to bed now. Gotta be up by 10 if I'm to make it to my 12 o'clock appointment in town.

Be Good and Review


	3. Wake Me Up Inside

Disclaimer and Warning: I do not own Vampire Diaries, however consider this story mine. Any dialogues not canon from the show as well as any descriptive sentences are the end result of over twenty years of writing. I have poured my heart and soul into every beautiful paragraph, every perfect sentence, every hot and/or romantic scene, and every funny one-liner. To copy this work or any other and claim as one's own, in whole or in part is a criminal offence punishable by ostracism, harassment by my loyal readers, and possibly even dismissal by the MODs. **Repeat offenders will be reported IMMEDIATELY to Stop_Plagiarism on LiveJournal and your name will be placed on the watch list under all known aliases.** It's not worth it; don't be a thief !

For all my good friends both here and on Live Journal (you know who you are, ladies)! Without your encouragement, I wouldn't be here.

"_**How can you see into my eyes like open doors  
leading you down into my core  
where I've become so numb without a soul my spirit sleeping somewhere cold  
until you find it there and lead it back home"**_

_**Bring Me To Life- Evanescence**_

Chapter 3: Wake Me Up Inside

The first thing she's aware of is the light that stings her still-closed eyes; it's very faint, coming from a small lamp, but all the same it's too bright. She rolls over onto her side, using one of the large pillows to shield herself in the darkness again. She doesn't remember even leaving the damn thing on before she obviously passed out cold in her apartment; in fact, she doesn't even remember coming home at all. She knows that should sound off an alarm in her head, but she's too tired to care; right now she just wants to sleep…possibly for the next fifty years if her body will let her. But first, she needs that light to go away.

She stretches her hand out, expecting to touch her side table with the small reading lamp she undoubtedly left on last night.

Her hand comes into contact with the bed, and normally she'd assume she'd just slept on the wrong side; but this bed is softer, and the sheets feel as luxurious as if they were Egyptian cotton. Still, her head is pounding and it takes her a moment before it really hits her.

This is not her bed.

She winces in slight pain as she tries to sit up too fast and the wave of nausea hits her for a split second, reminding her once again why it was a stupid idea to mix drugs and alcohol in the first place; only this feels different from her usual hangovers. She feels sick, but the feeling passes too quickly, and the room isn't spinning. Actually, if she could just find that damn light and turn it off, she'd probably feel much better.

Slowly her lashes flutter open, though they feel so heavy, like she's slept for days. Hazy shapes and colors begin to take form in the relatively dim light coming from the far end of the room. She can only make out the large plasma TV across from the bed, and the leather sofa facing the screen; and there's the offending light coming from a floor lamp next to it. She recognizes that floor lamp just as she's able to recognize the scent on these luxurious sheets. She almost laughs at the irony of waking up in _his_ bed, after having wanted it for so many years; it figures that she'd finally get _that_, but not _him_.

"Sleeping Beauty's finally awake."

There's a hint of sarcasm in the way he says it, because she knows this is hardly a fairy tale; when he kisses her, she wants to die.

He doesn't turn around, but still she feels like he's watching her every move as she slowly draws the sheets back and slips out of the bed. Cool air hits her bare legs, and she realizes that she's only wearing her underwear, and an oversized black tee shirt; it smells like him, but she resists the urge to breathe in that scent. Instead she stands there, looking around for her clothes in confusion, finally spotting them on the matching leather arm chair in the corner.

"I didn't get a good look, I swear," he says, as if reading her thoughts. "I'd prefer the first time I see you naked to be a little more _romantic_."

She ignores the implication of his statement.

"I thought Damon Salvatore didn't do Romantic," she quips back, falling easily into their pattern of sarcastic wit.

Damon reaches for the half-empty bottle of scotch on the dark wood coffee table, pouring himself another glass. He's still not looking at her, and his mouth forms a hard line, barely masking his bitter resentment.

"And I thought Elena Gilbert didn't do Cold and Indifferent, but I guess we both have our secrets."

She knows she deserves his anger; she practically used him the same way Katherine did. The problem is that she can't bring herself to care; no matter how badly she wishes she could.

It's not that she doesn't love him; she loves him so much that it hurts. But she knows she's not the girl he fell in love with; she's barely even a shadow of that girl, and she doesn't know if she'll ever be _her_ again. There's literally nothing left for her to feel, and because of that, she doesn't deserve to love him.

"Sit down," he tells her, pouring a second glass for her. "You and I need to have a _very_ serious talk."

She bites her lip nervously; something she hasn't done since she was a teenager. Her clothes aren't too far away, being that the arm chair is conveniently in the corner closest to her side of the bed. She could easily slip them on, maybe sneak out the second he lets down his guard; if she was able to revive Elijah without either Salvatore noticing, then anything is possible.

"I'll catch you before you even reach the door," he warns her.

God, she hates that he always seems to know what she's thinking.

Damon turns around to face her, motioning for her to join him with that look that tells her he doesn't do _patient_. She knows that it's useless to fight him; he'll just end up coming after her. Still, if he thinks she's going to just sit down on his couch and indulge in a session of "share my pain" with him, he's clearly forgotten just how stubborn she can be.

"Your drink's not going to taste very good once the ice melts," he arches his brow at her, once again trying to hold on to that shred of control that's keeping him from just dragging her over here and demanding to know why the hell she tried to kill herself. He wants answers; but he knows he'll never get them as long as she keeps that wall up.

Elena rolls her eyes and walks over to him, quickly snatching the drink off the table and impressively downing the contents in less than a minute. He'd almost forgotten how fast she could consume the stuff, and he's taken back to that moment in Georgia. She hadn't trusted him back then, either, but in the end they'd come to an understanding that would eventually lead to a deep love; and an even deeper heartache. Once again, he curses himself for walking away from her. He'd thought he was doing the selfless thing (the right thing) by letting her live her life, and not taking it away; Forever was a really long time, and she hadn't even _lived_ yet. It wouldn't have been fair of him to turn her, no matter how badly he'd wanted to. Elena deserved to get married and have children, a family to call her own. She deserved to watch her children grow up, and to tell stories to her grandchildren; and all that cliché'd stuff. She deserved to have the life that _he_ so desperately wanted, but would never have. Of course, he'd never admit that to anyone unless they were compelled—or he had the option of killing them afterward.

It was ironic that the very thing Elena had brought out of him, his humanity, was the reason he'd had to leave her.

Love always fucking complicates things.

She's still standing across from him, with the coffee table between them. She sets her glass down, then glances around the room; curiosity finally getting the better of her. The room is quite large, with a gas fireplace behind her creating a cozy atmosphere similar to that of the Boarding House. There's an en-suite bathroom connected to it, and if she looks carefully through the double-glass she could probably see right into Damon's seamless glass shower; predictably it's large enough to fit several sorority girls at a time. She'd almost be convinced that she was back in his room at the boarding house if it wasn't for the tall glass windows on the far side of the room, and the view of the city from the spacious balcony. She'd guess they were on the top floor in a high-rise condo; most likely a penthouse, considering Damon's extravagant tastes in both alcohol and real estate. There isn't a clock in the room (and why would there be when Damon has all the time in the world?) but the blackness of the night sky indicates that it's still the middle of the night; meaning she's only been sleeping for a few hours.

"Where are we?" she asks, wanting to know how far away she is from her apartment. Judging by how small some of those lights are, she imagines it's pretty far away.

"At my penthouse," he tells her. "One of many."

She accepts the answer easily enough and moves to pour herself another drink.

"You can sit down," he tells her. His lips turn up into that familiar smirk; the one that always turns her legs to jelly. "I won't bite; unless you ask me to."

At his words, she suddenly remembers with perfect clarity the events that led her here. Unconsciously, her hand touches the side of her neck; the skin is smooth, as if it was magically healed and she looks at him questioningly.

"You lost a lot of blood," he tells her. "I had to give you some of mine."

She sinks down on the couch next to him, but still far enough away that she isn't touching him. The implication of his words isn't lost on her, and she wonders if the headache she feels is something else entirely.

"Am I…"

"Dead?" he answers for her in a sardonic tone. "Sorry to disappoint you, but you're still human," he confirms.

She's not sure how she feels about that. On the one hand, she's relieved that she isn't transitioning, but at the same time she regrets that she's _not_; it's a very odd feeling, and she can't explain it. All that she knows is that she wishes he would stop trying to save her all the damn time.

"You shouldn't have saved me," she sighs. "I _wanted_ to die."

"Why?"

Elena shrugs. "I don't want to feel like this anymore. At least if I was a vampire, or dead, I wouldn't have to feel anything."

She is completely serious, and that scares him. He has that urge to shake her again; she's not allowed to give up.

"There's no switch," he says, rolling his eyes at her naiveté. "So your little plan _not_ to feel isn't going to work."

Elena blinks at him, her last hope crumbling to nothing. Could it truly be possible that Damon had been lying about being able to turn off his feelings for her, when he had said that he and Stefan were leaving? She frowns and pours herself another glass, downing it in one long sip. It burns her throat, but she hardly notices; she just wants to go numb.

Damon stares at her, concern in his eyes. "Why do you want to turn it off?" he asks.

She is surprised by his question; _he_ of all people should know why she wouldn't want to feel anymore.

"I just…I can't do this anymore," she sighs. "I thought…if I could just turn off the pain, I would be able to get past everything."

Damon chuckles darkly. "And you thought getting turned by some stranger in an alley would have helped you get over whatever it is you're running from?"

"I wanted _you_ to do it," she tells him. Her eyes sear into his, conveying so much meaning that he couldn't possibly mistake the hurt in them. She'd hoped that he would have turned her, and when he hadn't, she had assumed (wrongly) that he didn't want her anymore. But if he could go back to that moment, when he'd decided to let her go, he still wouldn't have done what she'd asked him to.

He shakes his head, echoing the same words he'd said to her that day in his bedroom, when she'd begged him not to leave her alone.

"I'm not going to end your life for you, Elena."

She raises her chin in defiance, crossing her arms and looking every bit the stubborn teenager he knew back in Mystic Falls.

"That's why I went with Plan B; which you ruined, by the way."

"Because it was such a _terrible_ crime for me to save your life, _again_," he replies sarcastically.

She narrows her eyes at him. "I didn't ask to be saved."

"Well fortunately you're not the one who gets to make that call."

She turns her head away from him, glaring at the wall and refusing to say another word. Damon studies her profile, noticing for the first time just how thin she is; almost like she's starving herself. She has dark circles under her eyes, and her skin is so pale, as if she hasn't bothered to go out into the daylight in years.

"Tell me something," he says suddenly, breaking the silence between them. "Did you even _try _to move on or did you start throwing your life away the moment we left town?"

"Why do you even care?" she cries out in exasperation. "You're the one who left _me_, remember? You and Stefan both just walked out of my life and expected me to move on, even though I had _nothing_ left! No family, no friends…how did you expect me to react?" She glares at him again, injecting venom into her words as she slams her glass down on the coffee table. "I don't need a lecture from _you_ of all people."

Damon doesn't stop her when she stands up. He doesn't call after her as she storms her way to the bedroom door. He doesn't have to; she doesn't even get two steps into the hallway before he suddenly pins her to the wall.

"Let me go," she growls, struggling against the firm grip he has on her arms.

"You're not going anywhere," he tells her firmly.

She struggles even more, letting out frustrated little cries and whimpers. "Damn it, let go of me!" she screams at him.

He refuses to move; his grip tightens on her shoulders as he holds her almost perfectly in place. There's fire behind those ice-blue eyes, and she can tell that he's barely in control at the moment. Still, her eyes are narrowed into almost cat-like slits as she hisses and spits at him every single curse word she knows. It's all she _can_ do, because trying to fight Damon when he is so much stronger than her is just an exercise in futility. Her fists beat against his chest, she even manages to slap him a few times, and he takes it all as calmly as if she wasn't trying to beat the shit out of him right now. He refuses to release her, and eventually she falls against his chest; defeated.

"Are you done?" he asks, using that calm, raspy tone that lets her know he forgives her for her outburst.

She nods her head, and he pulls her closer, almost in an embrace. She lets him hold her; she just doesn't have the energy to fight him anymore.

When he finally lets her go, she throws herself back down on his leather sofa, crossing her arms and glaring at him in annoyance. "You can't just keep me here forever," she says.

He has a smug expression on his face as he settles himself next to her, taking another sip of his drink. "Try me," he arches his brow, a challenging look in his eyes as if he dares her to get up again. "I'm stronger, faster, and far more stubborn than you are. You're not leaving here until I'm convinced you won't do something incredibly stupid like get yourself killed."

"Why?" she asks pointedly. "Why does it matter to you whether I live or die, when you weren't even willing to have me with you forever? Hell, you don't even want to fuck me." She refuses to cry; he doesn't deserve to know how badly his rejection has hurt her. But tears have a way of showing up when she doesn't want them to, and she has to turn her head away again so he can't see her face.

"You're right." Damon lets the words sink in for a moment, wanting her to _feel_ them. "I don't care."

He knows it's incredibly cruel to say, and it's killing him right now to lie to her, but damn it, nothing else he's said has gotten through to her.

It gets her attention, and the pain in her expression is unmistakable. God, he _hates_ what he's doing to her, but she needs to feel _something_; if he has to break her before he can fix her, then that's what he's going to do.

"Go ahead," he tells her, waving her away as if she's an annoyance to him and he wants her to leave now. "Go get yourself killed, waste your life away, become a vampire if that's what it takes. Go destroy the last shred of your humanity, and live an empty existence if that's what you really want."

She stares at him in shock, unable to believe that he's actually saying such cruel things to her. He can't really mean them, can he? After everything they were to each other, all the times he told her that he cared about her, and that he would always value her life above anyone else's (including his own), he's just going to give up on her?

Her mouth forms a hard line, and she can feel a spark of something deep inside her beginning to ignite. It warms her skin, sends fire into her bloodstream as she stares at him; determination burning in her eyes. He can't give up on her; she won't let him.

Damon remains perfect still, almost indifferent to her as she moves to straddle his lap. He turns his head away from her, mirroring her own actions of a few nights ago, and she has this sudden urge to slap him for it. She won't let him close himself off to her; he can lie to her all he wants, but she _knows_ that he still cares about her. God, he's the only one left who _does_ care, and she can't lose him; not now.

When he feels the soft brush of her hair against his cheek and the soft breaths on his neck as she nuzzles into him, he knows she's come back to him. He turns his head toward her and breathes in the scent of her, lightly pressing kisses into her hair. She responds immediately, almost as if it's a reflex for her. She turns her head toward him, her lips meeting his in the softest kiss, barely a breath against his own. When she draws away from him suddenly, he thinks he's losing her again; until he feels the cool drops of water on his neck and realizes that she's crying. Her head moves to rest against his shoulder, and she buries her face into his neck. Her arms wrap around him, pulling him closer and he pulls her even closer; he never wants to let her go. The fabric of his black button down shirt is soaked through with her tears, and it's probably ruined now, but none of that matters to him. She could stain a thousand silk shirts with her tears, and it wouldn't make any difference in this moment. His fingers tangle in her hair as he strokes her back soothingly, letting her fall apart in his arms.

It's the first time she's let herself cry in years, and the flood of emotions is overwhelming. Her heart is clenching so painfully in her chest that she's almost certain she's dying, and she can't seem to stop the tremors wracking her body. She cries for Bonnie, Jenna, Jeremy, Caroline, Alaric, and Tyler, and how she couldn't save any of them. She cries for her parents; and the guilt she still carries with her for having caused them to drive all the way out to that party she'd just had to go to. She cries for all the times she could have told Jenna the truth, and for all the times she lied to her instead. She cries for John and Isobel too, because she never had the chance to really know either of them, and because she'd spent most of the time she did have fighting with them. She still feels that she should have done something to stop Isobel from killing herself, instead of just watching in silent horror as her birth mother burned to death right in front of her. She cries for all the missed opportunities, the wasted moments, for not telling the people in her life how she felt about them (even Isobel; she _was_ her mother, after all). She cries until she has no tears left, and her throat is dry and raw. When it's over, he lifts her into his arms, cradling her body against him as he carries her to his bed. She can barely keep her eyes open as he lays her down, her fingers still curled tightly into the fabric of his shirt; as if she's afraid he'll disappear again.

"Don't leave me," she whispers brokenly.

He soothes her, calming her fears as he lies on the bed next to her and brushing stray tendrils of hair away from her tear-stained cheeks. "Go to sleep, Elena," he murmurs, letting her nuzzle into him again. "I'm not going anywhere."

**Author's Note:** One more chapter left (I couldn't possibly end this without giving our couple a "happy ending")! I don't know when it will be finished, since I already have a smut chapter to write for All I Need, and then there's Living With Sin...soooo many stories to finish. See what you've created, S? ;)

Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me to continue this story. I love you all, and wouldn't be here without you!


	4. Temptation Waits

Disclaimer and Warning: I do not own Vampire Diaries, however consider this story mine. Any dialogues not canon from the show as well as any descriptive sentences are the end result of over twenty years of writing. I have poured my heart and soul into every beautiful paragraph, every perfect sentence, every hot and/or romantic scene, and every funny one-liner. To copy this work or any other and claim as one's own, in whole or in part is a criminal offence punishable by ostracism, harassment by my loyal readers, and possibly even dismissal by the MODs. **Repeat offenders will be reported IMMEDIATELY to Stop_Plagiarism on LiveJournal and your name will be placed on the watch list under all known aliases.** It's not worth it; don't be a thief !

For S, Jenna, Meg, and Alli; who have all been nagging me constantly on LiveJournal, Twitter, here on FF, and on IM! You know you only get away with it b/c I love you all anyway ;p

"**You come on like a drug  
I just can't get enough  
I'm like an addict coming at you for a little more  
And there's so much at stake  
I can't afford to waste  
I never needed anybody like this before"**

**Temptation Waits- Garbage**

Chapter 4: Temptation Waits

The first rays of the sun break through the curtains as she begins to stir awake. They fall on a few soft tendrils of her dark hair, making it glow a deep golden brown. She's beautiful as she sleeps; still curled up in his sheets with a soft little smile on her lips. The light continues to spread across her skin as he watches her, and her nose scrunches up adorably at the bright light that dares to disturb her dreams. Earlier he'd heard her whisper his name, followed by a content little sigh. He'd almost been tempted to wake her then, just so he could show her all the love he feels for her; and then she'd snuggled closer against his side, her hand unconsciously reaching for his, and it had been enough. He let her sleep; and even managed to join her for a few short minutes. But now he's wide awake and impatient to finally discuss their present situation; and Damon Salvatore doesn't do impatient very well.

Her eyelids flutter as he lightly brushes a few strands of hair away from her face, and the moment his lips touch hers she responds. He'd only meant for it to be a wake-up kiss, but Elena has this way of bringing passion to everything she does; even when still half asleep. Her lips are soft, welcoming. She parts them slowly, her tongue slipping over his bottom lip in a soft caress, and he's suddenly lost in her again. She tries to pull him closer, even though she's still lying on her side and one arm is trapped beneath her. Without knowing why he's giving in to her so quickly, he rolls her onto her back, hovering over her as he deepens the kiss. Her fingers curl in his hair as she arches against him, and the sheet slips off one bare leg as she wraps it high around his hip. She's still only wearing his shirt and a scrap of lace designed simply to cover the bare minimum of what it should; he's certain its only real function is to torture him, since it's doing nothing to mask the sweet scent of her arousal. The desire to tear off his boxers (which he kept on for her sake) and take her right now nearly distracts him from the original purpose he'd had in mind when he decided it was time for her to wake, and he reluctantly pulls himself away from that temptation; panting heavily despite the fact he doesn't need to breathe. She has a curious expression on her face when her eyelids flutter open again, and she realizes he's not kissing her anymore.

"What is it?" she asks. He can already see the vulnerability in her expression and knows instantly that she believes he's about to reject her. He figures he has about two minutes to prove that's not the case, while still getting the answers he needs, before she tries to run away again. Sure, he _could _use his supernatural speed and strength to his advantage in order to keep her with him, but he'd much prefer her to be a willing participant in their discussion; a discussion that's _long_ overdue.

"So, are we going to finally talk about what happened last night?" he asks, tilting his head to the side in that way that he learned long ago could get women to tell him _anything_, without the need for compulsion. He figures his "human" traits are far more effective at charming her anyway; and after all the progress they made in the last twenty four hours, he certainly doesn't want to jeopardize all of it by reminding her he has _other_ ways of getting what he wants.

Unfortunately, _she_ has this uncanny ability to get what she wants out of him too, and all it takes is for her to bat those doe-eyes at him and lick her lips in a way that makes it clear she's not really interested in _talking_ right now.

"What about last night?" she asks, as if it makes no difference to her whether they talk now or _later_; much later, after they've satisfied a desire that's been burning just beneath the surface even after all this time apart.

"Well, for one thing you practically broke down in my arms, and then you begged me not to leave you…" His words are suddenly cut off by her insistent mouth on his, and against his better judgment he allows her to continue.

"I don't want to talk about it right now," she whispers breathily against his lips.

Neither does he, really; there are so many other things he would rather be doing with her. It's getting harder (literally _and_ figuratively) for him to think with her so close to him, and he can't help but notice how _tight_ that tee-shirt is on her. She's a _woman_ now, and the fullness of her breasts is impossible not to notice. He hadn't been completely honest about not _looking _when he'd removed that bustier last night; of _course_ he'd looked. He may be a vampire who has seen it all, but he's still a man. Granted, it was a _quick_ look; sort of like sampling a tiny bit of the icing on a cake but still wanting to wait until the right moment to have a _real_ taste. There were still some things he'd been determined to leave to his imagination; at least for now. He's reminded of one of those secrets just as she moves to straddle his hips, and his crotch comes into close contact with the maddening heat between her thighs. She's rubbing against him now, rocking her hips in a rhythm that immediately brings their "situation" to the front of his mind again; he really hates having to be the strong one all the time. Just once he'd like to say "fuck the consequences" and take what he wants; but that god damn part of him that actually _cares_ won't let him. With his control hanging by a mere thread, he still manages to tear his lips away from her. She doesn't make it easy (why would she?) and turns her head to kiss his neck instead; he _almost_ gives in, but stops himself just before his instincts make him flip her over and drive deep into that slick, inviting little slice of Heaven she's offering.

"Maybe not, but you _need_ to," he says, rolling his eyes up into his head when she brings her teeth into play. Fuck, she's truly going to be the death of him; and being already dead, technically speaking, that's quite the testament to how crazy she's making him right now. "Elena, that wasn't just a few tears and some whimpering; you were sobbing as if the world had ended and every last person you ever loved had gone with it."

He feels her flinch against him, and her mouth is suddenly frozen mid-bite. Inwardly he curses himself for bringing that up; especially when it's not far from the truth. He's pretty much all she has left now, after all. Stefan's _still_ mourning Caroline, and probably off brooding somewhere, waiting for another high school girl to take pity on him and his tortured soul.

"Bad analogy, sorry," he apologizes.

She takes in a shuddering breath and nuzzles into him again. He knows instantly that this _isn't_ emotional manipulation at its finest. It's only the closeness she needs right now; the intimacy that causes her to snuggle up against him and torture him some more. It reminds him of the many times she'd hug him and unknowingly make him want her so badly that he _had_ to remain stoic or risk taking her right then and there, and he has to remind himself (again) why that would be a bad idea.

"Doesn't mean it's not true though," she sighs. It's a defeated sound, as if she's simply accepted that she's destined to lose anyone who gets too close to her; he wishes he knew what to say to that, but it's been too long since he understood what it truly felt like—aside from the threat of possibly losing _her_, obviously.

"I should have known better," he rasps, hating himself a little for reminding her of that pain when it had nearly taken her away from him—and he _just_ got her back. "Sometimes I forget what it's like; you get used to losing people when you're immortal." He's not looking for pity; he's not Stefan. But he's no good at apologies, and this is all he can really think to say. He expects her to smack him, or chew him out for being an insensitive jerk, but she doesn't.

"Does it make it easier?"

Of all the things she could have said, he hadn't expected that. He'd assumed he'd changed her mind last night about becoming a vampire.

"No," he tells her, choosing his words carefully. "You just sort of learn not to get too attached, which is probably a lot worse because you never really let yourself _feel_." He expects her to ask him what that's really like, since he should be the god damn expert of turning off his emotions by this point. He's already prepared with a sarcastic retort to whatever she has to say…and then she surprises him again by doing the complete opposite and asks him the one thing he hoped she'd never ask.

"Is that why you left?"

He shakes his head. How could she even think that he _wanted _to leave her? Hell, it killed him to walk away after everything they'd been through. "No," he sighs. "I left because it was the right thing to do; not because I wanted it to be over between us."

"There never _was_ an "us," she mutters bitterly, her words muffled in the hollow of his neck.

He pulls away from her; she might as well have just slapped him across the face. It would probably sting a lot less than her words. "Way to throw that back in my face."

She frowns, realizing instantly that it's come out all wrong; god, she didn't mean to hurt him. "No, I just meant…" she sighs, trying to form her thoughts clearly before she says anything else. "You didn't even try." The words are harsh, but she tries to soften them by resting her head against his shoulder as she says them. "I told you how I felt, and everyone kept telling me you felt the same, but even after I finally told you…you still left. You acted like it didn't matter." She's trying so hard to blink back the tears, but she can't disguise the choked sounds in her throat. "Why let me go?" she asks, her voice cracking on the last word.

He can feel the hot tears as they trickle down her cheeks and drop onto his skin, and for a fleeting moment he wants to have the ability to go back in time to that day seven years ago just so he could have the satisfaction of kicking his own ass for hurting her like this. He truly had been a selfish creature; choosing to walk away from her rather than fight for what they both wanted.

"Because I knew I didn't deserve you," he rasps, hoping that she'll understand why he left her. She lifts her head, and there's that determination and fiery stubbornness that he loves so much as her eyes meet his.

"That wasn't your decision to make," she points out, fury warring with hurt in her chocolate brown eyes.

"I know," he sighs. "But someone had to, and I know you wouldn't have been able to." He tries to hold his ground, but somehow his voice still cracks with emotion. "You were _eighteen_, Elena, and you were willing to throw your life away, again. Only this time it wasn't for some noble sacrifice to protect everyone you loved; it was because of _me_."

"I _wanted_ to be with you," she cries; her hand reaches down to squeeze his, as if it will somehow reassure her that he won't just disappear on her.

Damon can feel the heart-wrenching pain in his chest; it's like his soul is being ripped in two with every tear still trickling down her beautiful cheeks. _He_ is the cause of all that pain she's feeling; he's the reason for those tears. It's his worst fear coming true; he hurt her, even when he swore he wouldn't. He _needs_ to fix this; he has never been able to stand the sight of her crying, especially when it's his fault. She doesn't even put up the slightest bit of resistance as he wraps his arms around her; it surprises him a little, because she should be hitting him. She should be taking out her frustration and anger, and punishing him for hurting her; he deserves it. But she's not fighting him at all; she's snuggling into him, and he leans back on the bed with her, his head sinking into the pillows. She's curling up next to him, her hand still grasping his. For a moment he's reminded of that night, when he lay dying; because the hushed tone of their voices, full of emotion, and the way they're laying here now are very much the same.

"I love you, Elena," he whispers softly into her hair. "I do…but I just couldn't hurt you again."

"You wouldn't have," she whispers back with conviction, as if her saying it somehow makes it the truth.

He shakes his head, wishing he could believe her, but images of him snapping Jeremy's neck; of forcing his blood on her when she was ready to let Klaus kill her and put all her faith into some ridiculous, ancient potion; of feeding on her when he was hallucinating; of seeing that broken, empty shell that she became when he found her again just a few nights ago; of seeing her _cry_, they all remind him of the _many_ times he _has_ hurt her.

"You can't know that," he whispers, spitting the words out with bitterness. "I was so incredibly messed up. I spent over a century _not_ caring, and then when I finally did it just hit me all at once. I couldn't handle it most of the time. Everything is heightened when you're a vampire; especially emotions. Why do you think I kept pushing you away? You deserve someone a hell of a lot more stable, and I can't be that man for you."

He can already feel her body tensing at his words, and her fingers are like a vice on his. He knows she thinks he's going to leave her, but the truth is that he _can't_. If there's one thing he's certain of, it's that Elena Gilbert is impossible to walk away from. If she only knew how many times he had visited Mystic Falls, hoping that he'd run into her. It had taken two years and a few months afterward for him to finally accept that she wouldn't be coming back; and even _then_ he'd searched for her.

"But even knowing all that, I don't think I can walk away again," he rasps, running his fingers gently through her soft hair.

"Then don't." Her words are so soft that he can barely hear them, but he doesn't need to. Her eyes say everything as she lifts her head up to look at him, lips slightly parted in silent invitation. Her lips are as soft as a butterfly's wings as they touch his, and he closes his eyes, savoring the kiss. It's probably the purest one he's received; beating out even the first one they ever shared in its sweetness. He can feel every quiver, every trembling breath as she presses further into his side; her kiss is becoming more insistent.

"Elena," he whispers, trying to stop her before he forgets completely why he brought her here.

She shakes her head fiercely, placing a fingertip to his lips to silence his protests.

"No," she breathes against his skin. "No more talking."

He tries to fight her, he really does, but his body isn't cooperating right now and all he can seem to do is _let_ her kiss him. Her nails are raking over his skin, her lips are tracing a hot trail of fire down his chest, and oh dear _god_ her hand is slipping lower into the waistband of his boxers, and she's grasping hold of his throbbing dick. He knows that there was something they need to discuss, something _important_; the problem is he can't seem to remember what it was. The only thing he's aware of is the soft, warm tongue gliding in slow circles over the crease of his thigh, and the squeezing grip of her hand on his shaft. The fingers of her other hand curl into his waistband and tug the fabric down just enough so that the full length of him springs free of its confines. He can see her through hooded eyes, and she's staring up at him with the darkest, most lust-filled eyes he's ever seen. She holds his gaze, opening her mouth wide and…_fuck…_she closes her lips around his swollen tip and sucks _hard_. He's pretty sure he could come just by watching her suck him off; never mind the fact that it feels better than he'd ever imagined. Her mouth is so warm, so wet, so fucking perfect and from the naughty gleam in her eyes he can tell that she hasn't even started yet. She slides her lips further down his shaft and he can feel the added pressure of her hollow cheeks and the teasing flicks of her tongue. She's trying to kill him; he's going to burst into flames at any moment, and he's going to do it willingly just to keep this feeling going forever. Just when he thinks he can't possibly take anymore, she suddenly brings her hands into play and he knows he's fucked. There's just no way he's not going to come from this, and she knows it too. The feral growls and hisses of pleasure that she pulls from him seem to spur her on. He can feel the smirk on her lips, and the delicious little moan in her throat vibrates through him as she suddenly slides her little finger down the crease of his thighs, behind his sac, and firmly presses her knuckle right in that spot that sends the rush of fluid through his cock. He couldn't stop it if he wanted to, and to his amazement her throat is closing around his head as she milks him, taking him as deep as she possibly can even as his seed continues to pulse from him in waves. She doesn't spare even a single drop and the visual of her lips around his cock—of her sucking him dry of everything he has—is enough to make him (almost) come again.

Fortunately for his sanity, she crawls back up to lie next to him on the bed; peppering his chest with soft kisses the higher she gets, until she's directly over his lips. He can taste himself on her as he brings her mouth closer to his and delves his tongue inside to tangle with hers. It's by far the most erotic kiss they've shared yet, and it leaves her breathless. He's so tempted to just flip her onto her stomach, bury himself deep inside her, sink his teeth into the hollow of her neck, and stake his claim over her. He can practically smell their mixed scents on her; his blood in her veins and his seed still coating the back of her throat. He could take her right now, make her _his_, and satisfy his appetite for her blood and her body at the same time; but as much as he wants her to be his forever, it has to be her choice. So he pulls back from her tempting lips, smirking at the adorably frustrated look on her face, before growing serious again.

"Why did you want to turn?" he asks, not seeing any point of drawing this conversation out any longer than it needs to be.

She frowns in confusion. "Didn't we already cover this last night?"

He shakes his head. "No, I mean before that. You said you gave up because I wouldn't turn you back then, and that's always sort of been something I wondered about."

"Why?" she asks, staring at him as if she feels he should already know the answer. But the truth is, he really doesn't. Yes, she said she loved him, and she accepted him just as he was; but she'd professed to love Stefan once upon a time, even though she'd had no intentions of loving him _forever_.

"Because you reacted so negatively before when I tried to ensure you'd come back to me if Klaus killed you." He frowns, remembering in vivid detail the way she glared at him with such hatred that day he'd forced her to drink from him. He'd been willing to let her hate him for it at the time, only because he couldn't stand the thought of her dying. "I guess I'm just having a hard time understanding why you were so upset if you would go ahead and choose this life anyway."

She looks away guiltily. "I didn't want it before," she admits softly. "At least, I wasn't sure if I did." She glances up at him through her eyelashes and her lips turn up in a half-smile, as if too lighten the mood between them. "Being only seventeen, it sort of complicated things for me…"

"I know," he says in a tone that indicates she doesn't need to explain. "Stefan told me."

"He did?" She's surprised by this revelation; she'd always assumed that information had been between _them_. Knowing that Damon knew about it all along sort of brings into question a lot of things she had believed about their relationship. Had he known all along that he'd have to leave her, and was that the reason he'd never made love to her?

Damon nods in confirmation. "After Stefan got back from "rehab" and feelings were exposed he realized that you cared about me more than you were willing to admit. He always knew how I felt about you, but seeing how we were together…he felt he had to warn me that you didn't want this life, and that I would eventually have to let you go," he explains, wanting to put any more questions she has to rest. "At first I thought that was just his passive-aggressive way of dealing with the fact that I literally stole his girl from him, but the more I thought about it, the more I started to realize I was being selfish by keeping you—we both were. Also, there was the fact that he was pining over Caroline; that kind of made it pretty clear to me that he wasn't just saying all that stuff out of spite."

"But I asked you to stay," she frowns. "I told you I wanted you." He's about to point out that _wanting_ him and wanting to turn are two separate things, but she cuts him off before he can even utter a single word. "You wouldn't have had to turn me right away," she points out, as if it had been the obvious solution to their dilemma. "I could have waited a few years and decided then that was what I wanted…I just, I wasn't willing to be 17 forever. Early 20s makes more sense, don't you think?"

He rolls his eyes, muttering "Now she tells me," under his breath.

If the situation wasn't so serious, she probably would have giggled at his statement. But the truth is that when he walked away, it _hurt_. It hurt more than she'd ever thought was humanly possible; like her soul had been ripped to shreds and her heart torn out of her chest, leaving a gaping, empty hole.

"I always assumed you just didn't want me, you know, after everything I put you through…how I pushed you away."

And there it is; the reason for all her self-destructive behavior. She could have gotten over losing her family, her friends, and the life she'd known in Mystic Falls; but she had _never_ gotten over losing _him_.

"I never _stopped_ wanting you, Elena," he rasps, leaning in to nuzzle against her cheek and pull her into his arms. "Hell, there isn't a moment that goes by that I don't think about turning you, just so I can have you forever."

He's possessive in his hold on her, but impossibly _she's_ the one gripping him harder. "Then why haven't you taken me?" There's a challenge in her tone, and it's not so much a request as a demand that he make her his. He's shocked by it, and his gums ache as he fights back the demon in him that's already screaming for him to take her _now_. He pulls back from her, and focuses on her beautiful face and those deep, dark eyes, so full of love and desire for him. His thumb brushes over her cheek as he cups her face in his hands.

"Because I need to make sure that this is what you really want." He's watching her with such intensity, looking for any sign that she's about to change her mind; but there isn't one. She meets his gaze with the same intense desire that reflects in his eyes.

"I do." She licks her lips, nodding her head in determination. "I want _you,_ Damon."

"Even if that means giving up your life, literally, to be tied to me for eternity?" he asks.

She shrugs indifferently, as if being damned forever isn't such a huge price to pay just to be with him. "My life isn't such an amazing gift anymore," she reminds him. "Or haven't you noticed?"

"But that could change," he points out. "You could meet a nice human boy, get married…have kids. That's what you wanted before, and you can _still_ have it." _Just not with me,_ he silently adds to himself. If he could, he would gladly give up eternity just for the chance of living a human existence with her. If it meant that _he_ could be the father of her children, and grow old with her, then it would be worth it in the end. But he can't change what he is; there's no magical spell or potion that can give him back his mortality. He's already looked, and it doesn't exist. He'll never be able to give her the white picket fence and the yard full of kids with her dark hair and his stunning blue eyes.

"I don't care about any of that," she tells him, as if she can somehow hear his thoughts. "Besides," she whispers softly. "It would all be kind of pointless without my soul mate."

"I'm still not sure I have a soul." There's bitterness behind his teasing smirk, but Elena's soft touch soothes it away as she strokes his neck.

"You do," she insists. "I've seen it." She places another sweet kiss over his mouth, this time daring to slip the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip as she draws back. "I've _felt_ it every time you've kissed me," she breathes against his skin. "I love you," she whispers, pressing her body into his demandingly. "If I have to choose between living a human life, or spending eternity with you…" she pauses dramatically, pulling back from his lips and staring into his eyes with fierce determination. "Then I choose you." She cups his face in her hands, deliberately echoing the same words he said to her almost a decade ago. "I will _always_ choose you."

His heart is in his throat as she continues to stare at him with those pleading eyes, begging him silently not to take the choice away from her a second time. The air is deathly silent, with only the soft breathing and rapid pounding of her heart echoing in his ears.

"Okay," he rasps, knowing that there really isn't any other answer he can give her without it destroying them both. "I'll turn you."

**Author's Note: **This was getting WAY too long, so I had to stop it here both for dramatic effect, and because I'm still working on the ending. I have two scenarios playing out in my head right now, both involving blood-play, smut, and Elena's turning (obviously), but haven't decided which one to use yet. Hey, on the bright side, I DID give you guys another helping of smut so you can't be _too_ mad at me for not finishing this one, right? Now down to business…

There's still time to cast your votes for the TVD Recs Fanfiction Awards, so if you haven't already gone over there you have until June 1st. I also want to thank everyone who has already voted for me! You all rock, so much! I love you all :D Now, recently I took it upon myself to create my own smut community on Livejournal (which you can access from either my smut tutorial or my LJ). You will of course have to be 18 or over in order to join, and once you're a member you'll have access to my very own list of Top Picks for Delena smut. It's a work in progress, mind you, since there are SO many fics in our archive here on FF, but for every yummy chapter or one-shot that I find that ranks high on my hotness scale, I will be adding to that list. If your story happens to be on it, then you should take that as a compliment of the highest order, as well as some incentive for some of you to start working on some delicious smut for me ;)

Okay, I'm off to work on the FINAL chapter of this fic. Be good and review!

**P.S. The Official Soundtrack to this fic can be found on my Livejournal (tagged under this story's title). I will eventually upload the music file, but not until I finish this story.**


	5. I Would Die For You

Disclaimer and Warning: I do not own Vampire Diaries, however consider this story mine. Any dialogues not canon from the show as well as any descriptive sentences are the end result of over twenty years of writing. I have poured my heart and soul into every beautiful paragraph, every perfect sentence, every hot and/or romantic scene, and every funny one-liner. To copy this work or any other and claim as one's own, in whole or in part is a criminal offence punishable by ostracism, harassment by my loyal readers, and possibly even dismissal by the MODs. **Repeat offenders will be reported IMMEDIATELY to Stop_Plagiarism on LiveJournal and your name will be placed on the watch list under all known aliases.** It's not worth it; don't be a thief !

For S, Jenna, Meg, and Alli; who have all been nagging me constantly on LiveJournal, Twitter, here on FF, and on IM! You know you only get away with it b/c I love you all anyway ;p

**Author's Note:** *wipes sweat off brow* Whew, I'm FINALLY finished this story. Thank god, I was beginning to wonder if my muse was ever going to shut up and let me end it. Hope this was worth the wait, because I probably won't be updating anything else for a while; I've got a Vampire Big Bang to write for LiveJournal, so right now my focus is on getting that finished. I'll of course post it here when I've got it all written, but in the meantime you all will just need to be patient. Speaking of LiveJournal, thank you so much to all those who voted for "All I Need" in the TVD Recs Fanfiction Awards! I promise to continue to live up to my reputation for Best Smut ;) Which reminds me…if I were to start writing professionally, and made up my own romance novels/novellas with my own characters, would you be interested enough to purchase them? I'm thinking of writing e-books for Amazon etc. and by-passing the big publishing companies completely so I can get my novels out there without all that red tape. I'm not sure when I'd start doing that, but it's always been my dream to be a published author, and it would be amazing if I could turn my passion into a career someday.

P.S. Because I don't want to get lynched by any Twilight fans, I'm just going to warn you all now…there's some snarkiness in this chapter regarding Breaking Dawn. I am not going to apologize for it, either. That book was a clusterfuck of insanity, and the worst anti-feminist piece of "literature" ever to grace the shelves of the Young Adult section. It's not worth the paper it's printed on. If you have a problem with that, just know that I will NOT bother to read any comments flaming me for my opinions. It's called freedom of speech, and just as I won't censor my lemons or tone down my language, I'm not going to censor my opinions either. If you can't take the commentary in the humorous way it's intended then don't read, or skip through that part of the fic. Okay? Okay.

xoxo

~Carly

"**I would die for you**

**I would die for you**

**I've been dying just to feel you by my side**

**To know that you're mine."**

**Garbage- #1 Crush**

Chapter 5: I Would Die For You

"_I'll turn you."_

The words echo in her ears even now, as they're lying on the bed, their bodies angled toward each other. She doesn't know how much time has passed; all she's aware of is the soft brush of Damon's fingertips over her face. The rest of the room has disappeared; melted into thin air, and the only thing she can see is him. She watches him carefully, waiting for him to put a condition on it, or tell her that he only intends to do it as a last resort, but he says nothing. He's gently brushing another strand of her hair from her neck, and she swallows nervously at the way he's looking at her; it's like he's trying to burn her image into his memory. For a moment she senses some hesitation, and she's afraid he's about to change his mind; and then he leans into her again, his breath against her cheek as he nuzzles just behind her ear. His breath tickles her skin and she shivers at the sensation, and tiny shocks of electricity shoot through her at the first touch of his lips. A fleeting thought passes through her desire-fogged mind and she wonders just how much more intense making love with him will be _afterward_. She imagines it will be quite explosive, given that she already feels like she's on fire whenever he touches her; then she gives up thinking altogether.

Damon pulls her closer to him, cradling her body against his hard chest. His lips are more insistent now, trailing down the side of her neck to the pulse point that's beating rapidly just beneath her skin. He can almost taste the sweet essence of her, and it's driving him half-mad with his need to claim her; to mark her as _his_ at least once while she's still human. He knows it's unnecessary, maybe even a little selfish for him to draw this out any longer than it needs to be, but the truth is he doesn't _want_ to turn her; not yet. He's waited too long for her, dreamed of nothing else but the touch of her skin and the sound of her heart pounding in her chest as he sends her to heights she can't even imagine. He wants to feel the heat of her skin, hear the sharp little gasps as she struggles to breathe even as he feasts on her breasts and savors the sweet honey flowing from her like ambrosia. He wants her under him, writhing with pleasure, and he wants it while she's still human; and Damon Salvatore always gets what he wants.

He tugs the collar of her shirt down to expose her shoulder, mentally cursing that he can't just tear it off her because it just so happens that he dressed her in one of his favorites. Her body wriggles against him as she attempts to lift the shirt up with him still suckling at the place where her neck and shoulder meet. He allows her to break away from him long enough to tug the fabric over her head. He tosses it somewhere far off into the corner of his room, not caring where it lands, and a soft moan escapes his lips at the sight of her bare before him. She's perfect, just as he knew she would be; her breasts fill his palms as if they were meant to be touched by him and him alone, and she arches into his touch, begging wordlessly for more. He has never been able to deny her, so why start now? In an instant he has her up on her knees, straddling his hips; there are perks to being a vampire, and the super speed is definitely high on his list. Her breasts are perfectly level with his face as he lifts her up just enough to capture one caramel colored nipple between his lips.

She lets out a sharp little cry at the first sting of his teeth on the sensitive little bud, but soon it becomes a low moan as he soothes the tender flesh with the softness of his tongue. His hands are gliding up her back, sending little shivers up her spine as his fingers tangle into her hair. She can feel his rigid length through the thin material of his boxers as she rocks against him. God, she's never been this worked up in all her life; her skin is already tingling, every part of her alive with sensation. The pulsing between her thighs is maddening in its intensity and she isn't sure how much more she can take. The suckling, tugging, nibbling, licking…it's all too much for her; her head is spinning, her body wracked with tremors, and she's coming undone at the seams. His hand slips easily between her damp thighs, slick with sweat and her own arousal; he presses his palm against her, delivering just enough pressure for her to crash over the edge. With a keening cry she arches into him, gripping his shoulders and clawing at his back as he strokes her through the fabric of her panties and draws more shudders from her even as he's lowering her back down to the bed.

She's absolutely magnificent in the throes of her passion; he's certain he has never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life, and he can't help feeling pleased that _he_ is the one to cause it. Unable to resist the temptation, he hooks her panties with his fingertips, drawing the scrap of lace to the side slowly, until he can hear the faint tearing sound of the fabric as it begins to fray at the seams. He pulls it from her, overwhelmed immediately with the powerful scent of her arousal and the perfect image of her lying naked on his bed, her legs splayed out and her body completely open to him, waiting for him to claim what's always been his.

"Damon," she whines, just before he captures her lips again, swallowing her cries as he slides his fingers deep inside. Her nectar coats his hand as he rubs his thumb over her clit; he presses his fingertips against her walls, searching for that little spot inside her that will send her into another glorious climax and cause her to scream his name. It doesn't take long at all; that little patch has already swelled to the size of a quarter, and she responds instantly to his touch. Her fingers curl into the sheets, gripping them tightly as his lips trail down her throat, over her chest and down to that quivering place between her legs that calls to him like a siren. He pulls his hand away from her, giving her a short reprieve as he sucks them clean of her honey before lowering his head to the source.

At the first touch of his tongue she cries out again in rapture; it's exquisite torture, a mix of pleasure and pain as his tongue flicks over that pulsing little bundle of nerves in just the right spot. Her hips are bouncing up off the bed, her legs shaking almost violently, and he has to press his free hand into her belly to keep her still as he feasts on her like a man starved. She's so hot, and yet her skin is prickling with goose bumps; she feels so weak, and yet she can't stop thrashing; she's screaming, writhing, gasping for breath as the coil tightens inside of her until it's almost painful, and then he closes his lips around her sensitive flesh and forces her to let go. The cord springs back with so much force that she's sobbing incoherently as her inner walls contract repeatedly around his fingers, almost pushing him out of her body. Impossibly he resists, curling them inside her to press against her front wall again; sending her hurtling into a climax so powerful she's almost certain she can see the stars behind her closed eyes. She barely recovers before his lips find hers again, his naked flesh nestling between her thighs and the tip of his thick cock probing the entrance to her body. She moans softly as he pushes his hips forward, burying himself deep inside her throbbing core. They move as one, her hips undulating in time with his thrusts; every stroke sets off sparks inside her. She's dimly aware of the tears flowing down her cheeks as the pressure builds up once more.

She grips his hips, pushing him deeper inside her, moaning "Come with me," into his ear.

He's been close to his breaking point for a while now, having only held on this long because he knows he'll never get another chance to make love to her just as she is now, but it's her words that finally push him over the edge; he couldn't hold out anymore if he wanted to, and with one last thrust of his hips they're both plummeting off the cliff and into a sea of fire. The heat of her body is overwhelming, but he clings to her like a lifeline, pressing her scorching skin to his; her warm body; the blood pulsing in her veins; and the rapid pounding of her heart, they're the things he's going to miss most of all once she's turned. Only the knowledge that he'll have her with him forever keeps him from regretting his decision. Placing one last soft kiss against the pulse of her neck, he rolls off of her, smirking slightly at her little whine of protest as soon as their bodies disconnect. She curls into his side, unwilling to leave his arms even for a moment as she comes down from her high. It's several minutes before her breathing returns to normal, several more for her heartbeat to slow to a steady pace. She rests her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed; he's almost certain she's fallen asleep, but then she opens them again.

"So what do we do now?"

He chuckles softly, amused that she still even has the energy to stay awake after the workout he put her through. Her stamina is impressive, especially for a human woman; as a vampire she could very well become the first woman to ever wear him out. That thought alone is enough to spike his arousal again, and he grins, running teasing circles over her hip with the tips of his fingers and bringing on those sexy little goose bumps again.

"I can think of a few things…" he replies, sliding his hand down to cup her ass and give it a playful squeeze.

She giggles, but slaps his hand away. "No," she says, trying to inject some seriousness into the tone of her voice. "I mean about _us_."

He looks at her, puzzled by her statement. He thinks it should be obvious; now they live happily ever after, or whatever the expression is.

"What I mean is…I still have your blood in my system from last night," she continues in a contemplative manner. "Is it enough to turn me or am I going to need more? And how am I going to die? I mean, are you going to snap my neck after or is that too impersonal?"

He rolls his eyes, feeling more than a little irritated that she wants to talk about dying _now_.

"As far as pillow talk goes, this is a little morbid don't you think?" he points out, hoping she'll drop the subject. He said he'd turn her; he had never agreed to do it today, though. She sits up, her arms crossing over her chest and hiding parts of her that he'd really prefer to be enjoying again, rather than have this conversation with her. But Elena is stubborn, and he can already tell by the look she's giving him that she's not going to drop this anytime soon.

"I'm serious, Damon," she says in that no-nonsense tone of hers.

"So am I," he counters. Sorry, but she's not the only one who gets to be stubborn. "Discussing your death isn't exactly romantic, you know."

"I thought you wanted me to turn."

He sighs, resigned to having this discussion with her, whether he wants to or not.

"For my own selfish reasons, yes, I do," he admits truthfully. "But killing you myself wasn't exactly part of the fantasy."

Okay, so maybe that's not entirely true; there had been a time when he had threatened to do just that, but that was long before he realized just how much he loved her. Feeding her his blood, that's easy; he has no issues with letting her drink as much as she likes, (provided she doesn't drain him dry—and the irony of that isn't lost on him) but that second part of the turning process…that's the part he's seriously taking issue with. He held her lifeless body in his arms once already, and personally he never really wanted to repeat that experience. The only reason he is even agreeing to it now is because he _can't_ live without her; that's just not an option for him. It's his greatest strength as well as his greatest downfall; he loves with his whole heart, and will literally do _anything_ to be with that person. So yes, he knows that he _is_ going to have to let Elena die sooner or later; but he really, really wants it to be later. She's only what, twenty three or four right now, right? They could at least wait a few more years…

"I could always do it myself," she says, as if she's able to hear his internal monologue and has decided to take matters into her own hands; some things never change.

"That's even _less_ appealing." He's repulsed by the very idea of her taking her own life, because it's all kinds of fucked up; granted, this situation is fucked up in itself, but that's not the point. Whenever he imagined her turning, it was to _save_ her life; to ensure that she would come back to him, should the unthinkable happen. It was never about her _dying_ for him.

Obviously picking up on his reluctance to turn her, she keeps her arms folded over her chest and cocks her head to the side. "So what's the plan then?" she asks mockingly. "You wait until we discover I'm carrying your impossibly conceived half-vampire baby and you feed me your blood as a last resort effort to save my life during the delivery?"

He rolls his eyes. "No," he replies, unable to hide his disdain for that particular vampire romance—if you could even call it that; because that Edward guy is _such_ a tool. "Also, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

She ignores his comment, however, choosing instead to continue down this path of insanity.

"I suppose if we had a boy, we could name him Steferemy," she smirks, giggling at her little joke, "or Johnsseppe."

"I stand corrected. _That_ is even _more _ridiculous; even worse than naming your kid after a fruit!"

"Of course," Elena continues, (and Damon rolls his eyes because he really can't believe she's comparing their situation to _that_ drivel) "the whole baby thing would only happen because I refused to let you abort it and have me impregnated with another man's child, just to indulge my "maternal need".

"Okay, now _that _is really fucked up!" he says out loud, having had enough of this stupidity. He's not that familiar with the series, but from what he saw of Caroline's book that time in her room, it was _already _bordering on ridiculous; no self-respecting vampire would ever take a book about glittery vegetarian vampires with purity rings seriously.

"Whoever the hell wrote those books had some serious issues!" The subject is already boring him; he so does _not_ want to get into a lengthy discussion with her about everything that's wrong with those books, and especially not when he suspects she's trying to distract him from the real discussion. "And _you _are not taking this seriously."

"Neither are you."

She's still looking at him with her lips pressed in that thin, stubborn line. Her brow is arched in challenge, and it's like she's saying "or are you too much of a coward to actually go through with it?" Her dark eyes are burning into his and he growls low in his throat. Damon Salvatore is a lot of things, but he's _not_ a coward.

"You want serious?" he replies, challenging her right back.

She's in his arms faster than she can react, and in a blur of light and movement she's suddenly standing alone in front of the bathroom mirror with her back to the glass shower. She barely has time to even explore her new surroundings before Damon appears behind her again, only this time he's holding something in his hand. She furrows her brow in confusion as he places the handle of the blade into her hands, but doesn't let go of her wrist; he brings it up to his chest, never taking his eyes off hers and never loosening his grip even as he forces her hand to press the tip of the blade to the side of his neck.

"Make it deep," he instructs her, "but not too deep. If you just scratch the surface I'll heal too quickly."

Her eyes are wide with shock as the first drop of blood begins to trickle down his collar bone; the wound closing almost as soon as it's inflicted.

"Damon, what are you…" she starts to pull away, not wanting to hurt him, but he holds her firmly to him.

"I'm not going to force you this time," he rasps, his eyes blazing with fierce determination. "If you want it, you're going to have to take it."

She stands there in stoic silence, her eyes flickering from his face to his chest several times in the span of thirty seconds. She's frozen in place, her hand still clutching the knife but unable to pull away or press any harder into his skin with it.

"It's your choice, Elena," he whispers softly.

She bites her lip hard; there's no going back from this moment, she knows this is it. She can feel his grip loosen on her wrist, until the only thing holding her hand in place is her own fear of what will happen if she pulls away from him now; if she says she can't do it. She knows that if she does, she might not get another chance. Her eyes flicker to his one last time.

"I love you," she whispers softly. And then she presses her hand down.

The blade slices into his skin, just enough to let the rich, dark blood trickle over his pale skin. She's mesmerized by it, and though she's tasted his before, she can't help feeling like this time is going to be different, because it's not being forced on her; this time she _wants_ it. She presses the blade a little deeper, letting more of his blood flow from the wound before finally dipping her head down to taste him. She shivers as the first few drops hit her tongue; it's like fire and ice coursing through her veins. She suckles at his flesh and drinks deep, moaning softly at the taste of him; like fine wine and the richest, most decadent chocolate.

Damon closes his eyes in pleasure, moving one hand up to tangle in her hair and press her harder into him as he takes the knife from her hand, setting it behind them to clatter noisily in the sink, though they're both too focused on each other to hear it.

She's breathing heavily now, her lungs crying out for air even as she drags her nails over his shoulders and grips him tighter to her. She's shuddering now, moaning in ecstasy and grinding shamelessly against him. He knows all too well that vampire blood is a powerful aphrodisiac, and even comparable to the most potent form of MDMA for those who have a strong attachment to the vampire who gives it; in Elena's case, the scent of her arousal is overwhelming in its intensity. It's driving him crazy, making him so hard that he can't stand it; the only thing he can think about is how much he wants to be inside her again.

She's still hungrily lapping at his skin, and he has to gently press against her shoulders to stop her before she drains _him_ dry.

"That's enough," he whispers, tilting her chin up and bringing her lips close to his.

Fuck. He can taste his blood in her mouth as he kisses her; it makes him even harder, if that's possible at this point. Because he's already pretty fucking hard; and if he doesn't have her soon he's going to be in some serious pain. Elena's _not_ helping the situation either; she's raking her nails down his chest, scraping them teasingly over his stomach down to his treasure trail. And then she pulls her lips away from his, grasping his cock tightly in her fist, and rubs it up and down her slick folds like he's her own personal sex toy.

"I want you inside me," she growls (actually fucking _growls_, and it's the hottest sound she has ever made thus far) in his ear.

Nobody in their right mind could resist _that_, and Damon's not even willing to _try_. In an instant he has her pressed against the tile wall of his shower, her sexy legs wrapped tightly around his waist. She cries out as he slides into her completely in one long, sharp thrust of his hips. She's so incredibly tight, despite their earlier excursions in his bed, and feels like a god damn inferno.

She clings to him desperately, sobbing his name as he rolls his hips up to hit that one spot that makes her legs twitch.

"Oh, oh, _there_…" she hisses in his ear; like he really needs her to tell him that he's driving her out of her mind with pleasure. She screams, convulsing around him as he hits that spot one more time, reaching down with his free hand to circle her pulsing clit and bring her to an even more powerful climax. He doesn't even wait for her to catch her breath as he pulls out of her and quickly flips her around, pressing her back flush against his chest; then he enters her again. Her nails scrape over the tiles as she slams her hips into his, driving him deeper inside her hot core. He can already feel her quivering walls surround him, squeezing his flesh in delicious torture as she nears another climax, and he knows that it's almost time; as soon as his own climax hits him and he empties himself into her, he tilts her head back to rest on his shoulder and buries his face in the soft column of her neck.

"Do it," Elena moans softly.

Damon wraps his arms around her, bringing her as close to him as he can; one hand pressing into her full breasts, the other curling down between her legs to give her as much pleasure as he possibly can—because this is going to be her last human memory, and he wants to make sure it's a good one. His fangs elongating, he pierces her skin just as she's crying out in ecstasy; he can taste her pleasure as he drinks deep, savoring every drop of the sweet ambrosia flooding his mouth. He holds her like this for several minutes, slowly sipping her blood like he would a fine wine until she's physically weak and begins to fall limp in his arms; until his strength is the only thing holding her up. He's almost tempted to pull away from her, and force his blood down her throat until she opens her eyes again. Under any other circumstances, if it were anybody else, he would be enjoying this moment; the moment when his victim's heart starts to slow, then stop as he has one last taste before dropping them unceremoniously to the floor. But this isn't just any woman in his arms, and though it's slowly killing him to do this, he won't let her go.

When he hears her heart give one last, faint beat, he gently lifts her into his arms; cradling her close to his chest as he carries her over to his bed. He sets her down against the white sheets, stroking the strands of hair out of her face, and he can almost pretend that she's sleeping; except that her heart no longer beats, and her skin is cold to the touch.

Several hours pass, but he refuses to leave her side. He strokes the soft column of her neck, brushes his hand against her cheek, and stares at those closed eyes as if he's trying to compel her to open them. He _hates_ seeing her like this; it reminds him of the last time he'd held her lifeless body in his arms, and swore that he would stake her if she came back a vampire because he was afraid she'd hate him forever for it. Now he has to lie here next to her, wondering if she'll still want this life when it's already too late. He worries that she'll hate herself, because no matter how much he tries to convince her that she's nothing like Katherine, this will be yet another similarity between them. And if all that crushing guilt and sadness follows her to this new life, what then? Will she be able to handle it, or will she try to turn off her emotions (like so many other newborn vampires)? And what will that mean for them? What will it do to _her_ when eventually the "switch" doesn't work anymore and she has to face the consequences of her actions? Will the guilt be too much for her? Will she leave him? Try to kill herself?

He's well aware that he should have considered all of this _before_ he turned her, but then again, if he _had_ then he probably _wouldn't_ have done it. And then where would that have left them?

Either way, he's pretty sure he's screwed.

Elena chooses this exact moment to awaken. Her eyes shoot open, and she gasps in the air she no longer needs. Her head is pounding horribly, and her eyes are stinging as the light hits them full force, and her stomach is practically crying out in protest, as if she's been starved for days. She can't remember how she got here; the last thing she remembers is having sex with Damon in the shower (minus the running water) and feeling the most intense pleasure she's ever experienced. And then…nothing; everything just went black after that.

She looks up at him, still breathing heavily, and notices the relief in his beautiful eyes.

"I was wondering when you were gonna wake up," he teases her, smirking slightly before his expression turns to one of concern.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I have the world's worst hangover," she groans, placing one hand to her head in a vain attempt to stop the hammering inside her skull.

"Sorry," he says apologetically, "I probably should have mentioned that part."

The implication of his words suddenly hits her. "Am I—?" she starts to ask, and he nods his head in confirmation.

She's suddenly very quiet, as if contemplating the choice she now has to make. Damon frowns, because he has no way of knowing what she's thinking.

"Do you regret it?" he asks, not even bothering to hide the guilt in his expression.

She shakes her head, but doesn't reply.

"Elena," he presses, emphasizing every letter of her name.

She looks up at him, and he can see the fear in her eyes. "If I complete the transition, I won't be like Katherine, right? I'll still be me?"

Shit, he was afraid this was going to happen.

He honestly doesn't know how to answer her, because even _he_ doesn't know what's going to happen once she takes her first sip of human blood. She could be like him, and not really change the core of who she is, or she could become a completely different person; worse than Katherine.

She could become a Ripper like Stefan.

He doesn't tell her any of this; instead he smiles softly and brushes his thumb over her trembling lower lip.

"You'll never be Katherine," he tells her; which isn't a complete lie, because no matter what happens she'll always be _his_ Elena. Besides, if Stefan could become a vicious homicidal maniac, and come back from it _twice_, then there's no reason to believe that the same couldn't happen for Elena; though he's still hoping she'll remain the same so he doesn't _have_ to lock her up. That would seriously put a damper on their sex life for a while; plus watching his brother go through "detox" was bad enough, and watching Elena go through it…that would be even more painful to watch. Forcing her to suffer, possibly for weeks, is definitely not on his list of "honeymoon" activities.

Fortunately she's too pre-occupied, concentrating mostly on keeping her head from splitting open (that's what it feels like, anyway), to notice he's not being one-hundred percent honest with her.

"I'll be right back," he tells her, somehow able to sense just how much pain she's in (even though he barely remembers his own transition, and at the time he'd been suffering more from a broken heart than the after-effects of being technically "dead").

On his way out of the room he stops to close the curtains.

She closes her eyes, not because she wants to, but because it's the only way they'll stop burning. She thought she understood, when she watched Jenna clutching her head and complaining about the pain, but she really hadn't understood at all. The light from the window (even behind the curtains) is sheer torture, and all she wants is for this to end _now_. Whether she becomes Katherine, or worse, she really couldn't care less. It doesn't matter; she knows that Damon won't let her stay that way. He proved that last night; and she knows that if she does decide to give up her humanity, he'll be right there to kick her ass until she's _Elena_ again.

She can hear him in the kitchen, and knows that he's getting her something to drink. She's surprised he still even keeps blood bags in the fridge, but then supposes it's more convenient than constantly looking for people to snack on. She's thankful for it, because she really doesn't feel like waiting for him to bring home a "willing" victim for her. Plus, it's broad daylight, and she's without a ring to protect her once she completes the change.

It's as she's realizing this that she suddenly remembers something; something important that she'd all-but forgotten last night after Damon had brought her back here. She's not even sure how she manages it, since her skull is still pounding, but she rolls off the bed and finds her small purse lying on top of her jeans. She easily locates the smooth stone with the long silver chain, and closes her hand around it. She doesn't exactly know _why _she's kept Isobel's necklace for all these years; it's not like she even knew her birth mother well enough to have any sentimental attachment to it. But as she twirls the lapis stone between her fingertips and settles herself back down on the bed with it, she wonders if maybe she knew that one day she'd have a need for it. After Caroline's death, Stefan had held onto her ring; and while Damon could probably have contacted his brother and asked for it, she knows what it means to him. He'd never said it out loud, because at the time of Caroline's death she'd still been trying to choose between him and Tyler, but Elena _knows _that he had been in love with her. Had things worked out the way they were supposed to, Stefan and Caroline would be living happily ever after and she and Damon would have done the same; but when have things ever worked out the way she wants them to?

"Whatcha got there?" Damon's voice interrupts her thoughts. She looks up to find him standing in the doorway with a cup of blood in his hands and a curious look on his face.

She dangles the necklace from her fingertips, giving him a teasing smile.

"I figured it would be a good idea to keep this with me; you know, so I don't burst into flames."

He smirks back at her. "Well, I _was_ going to get you a ring eventually, but this works too."

He sets the cup on the bedside table and gently holds his hand out for her.

"May I?" he asks, sounding just like a gentleman of his time. She stares at him for a moment, unsure of what exactly he wants. He glances down at the chain in her hands, quirking his brow at her.

"Oh," she exclaims, handing him the necklace and nodding her head. "Of course."

He smiles softly, moving to sit behind her on the bed, and his fingertips brush over her bare shoulder as he moves her hair to the side.

She closes her eyes, reveling in his soft touch as he drapes the chain around her neck and the stone settles just above her breasts. An involuntary little shiver goes through her at the contact of his fingers at the nape of her neck, and she bites back a low moan as he fastens the clasp and deliberately places a kiss on that spot.

She can feel his lips smirking against her skin.

"Are you _cold_, Elena?" His hands snake down past her collar bone to cup her breasts and flick his fingertips teasingly over her pebbled nipples.

"N-No," she gasps, overwhelmed by the sensations his touch evokes in her. "J-Just S-S-Sensitive."

He chuckles low into her ear, sending powerful vibrations through her. "I know," he purrs, capturing her earlobe between his teeth. "It gets better."

She can't imagine her senses being even more heightened than they already are, and just the thought of it is enough to make her shiver again. It takes her a moment to realize he's stopped touching her, and when she opens her eyes she notices he's reaching for the cup on the table.

"Drink up," he says, handing it to her. "It'll give you strong bones and teeth."

She shakes her head, laughing at his little joke before bringing the cup to her lips. She's surprised by how good it tastes, but also notes that it's still not as potent as _his_ (It's almost like comparing sex with chocolate; both are incredibly satisfying, but sex is still the better of the two). It's thick and syrupy, and it slides down her parched throat like a slushie on a hot summer day. The prickling in her gums is a little uncomfortable, but she ignores the slight sting as her fangs emerge for the first time and keeps drinking until there's not a drop left. By the time she's finished, the discomfort has subsided.

Damon takes the cup from her, smirking in amusement. "Someone was thirsty," he teases.

"Shut up," she says, playfully shoving him. For once in her life, she actually manages to _move_ him. She knows he's always going to be stronger than her, because he's older, but the fact that she could pin him down (even for a moment) thrills her. A wicked grin creeps across her lips at the thought, and Damon sets the empty glass down on the table, watching her warily.

"I just thought of something," she smirks at him.

He arches his brow, smirking right back at her in challenge. "Oh really?" he asks her. "And what's that?"

She licks her lips, still grinning as she brings herself up to her knees in a cat-like pose, the whole movement taking less than a second.

"I'm faster now."

"You are," he purrs seductively.

"And I'm stronger," she adds, pinning him down to the bed with a predatory gleam in her eyes.

"Mmmhmm…" he agrees as he begins to slide his hands over her thighs teasingly. She shivers in response and he takes advantage of her momentary distraction to lift her up so that she's straddling his hips. Elena lets out a little growl of pleasure as she rubs herself teasingly over his aching hardness.

"And I get to be with you whenever I want," she purrs, leaning over him to brush her lips against his in the sweetest kiss.

"Forever," he tells her, staring deeply into her eyes.

"Forever," she affirms.

Then she sinks down on him and the pleasure overtakes them both. The last coherent thought she has is that she's going to enjoy being a vampire; especially if it means spending an eternity with Damon by her side.

**The End**


End file.
